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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required There’s many a tale that spreads across the night when the sun o’er the plains yields to campfire light. Tales about cowboys, who once roamed the plains, scratching a living using their rope and reins A few were happy when it came time to tell, but many of them were just sadder than hell Cause most of them ended with some poor old soul lying all alone in a forgotten hole There's a story I recall about a man, that made his way north from the wide Rio Grande Arlie he was called by those that new him best folks round the Rockin Bar J just called him Tex When the punchin’ all played out Tex left his home in search of somewhere with enough space to roam He found Montana where mountains scraped the sky with enough space where he could live right or die Tex knew a few summers and could feel his age whenever Montana snows covered the sage He felt time too quickly closing in on him his hearing was fading, and his sight was dim Round the bunks they told of a stallion named Ghost catchin’ him would give a man the right to boast They said that horse can’t be caught by any man so all through the winter Tex worked on a plan Tex had studied that hoss and knew he was smart the cunning of a fox with want in his heart There wasn’t a horse that could match his pace Tex knew he won't beat him in a flat out race Summer had run long, this one hotter than most Tex laid his plan to get that horse they called Ghost With hellfire in his eyes and his nostrils flared Ghost come down from the mountain lookin’ for mares Now Old Tex was ready to play out his plan he’d strung out three horses across the grassland Twenty miles apart those geldings stood ready for an eighty mile stretch Tex could ride steady Tex spotted Ghost silhouetted 'gainst the sun that horse stomped and glared then took off in a run Ghost was in the lead and Tex brought up the back but Tex’d studied his foe and knew where he'd track Towards Rattlesnake Butte that stallion did run was heading straight into that bright morning sun 'cross dried grass and sage Ghost never skipped a beat Fast as a Chinook through that Montana heat Ghost was fast and Tex saw him pulling ahead but they’d reached the exchange and Tex mounted Red Red was sure footed and as fast as the breeze and he started closing up that gap with ease
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